


We Will Fill the Cracks Together

by newskyillusion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But more fluff than angst, Fluff and Angst, Get Together, HEA, M/M, Modern Era, Remus is a Librarian, Sirius is doing a PHD, Sirius is obsessed with werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newskyillusion/pseuds/newskyillusion
Summary: Remus works in a library and at his parents pub in a small, Welsh town.Sirius Black is doing his PhD on werewolves and comes to a small, Welsh town to do some research.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 158





	We Will Fill the Cracks Together

They came in on a cold afternoon; the air was light after the recent storm that swept over the village like a giant, not caring about their lives and plans. The door opened and a whiff of air entered the pub making people closest to the entrance shiver. Remus barely felt it on the tip of his nose as he stood behind the bar, two glasses in his hands as he looked up towards the entrance.

There were three of them, entering one by one, looking curiously around the place. “The Howling Wolf” was the best pub in town and not because it was the only one; generations of Howell’s poured their life into the four walls of the pub. And the kitchen still had tiles that were at least four decades old, unchanged up until this day, which was done on purpose. At least that’s what Hope Howell always used to say. 

The first man that walked in was tall, his head one big mess of dark, frizzy hair, with round glasses that didn’t look pretentious at all, only made his appearance look a little bit more devilish, with his round small nose and slightly pointy chin. He stopped for a second and looked around, furrowing his brows but he smiled when his eyes fell on the only free table that was left. He turned his head and said something to the people behind him.

Who followed him was his total opposite in almost every aspect. Where the first man was tall and thin, the other he was short and compact; with round face, dirty blond hair that was neatly combed back. He blinked rapidly and unbuttoned his jacket when the bar’s lights hit him.

But the doors haven’t closed, not yet. 

The third man walked in, stopped in the threshold and held the slowly closing door with his right hand, curiously looking around as if memorizing the ways the tables and chairs were placed, his dark brows furrowed slightly over his eyes. He started to unzip his leather jacket that fit him slightly too well, when his eyes darted to his friends who were in the middle of making themselves comfortable. The dark haired man nodded to them and when Remus saw that he was walking toward the bar, he lowered his head, focusing on wiping the glasses clean as the strands of the man’s hair that weren’t pulled into a ponytail at the top of his head started giving him ideas.

“Hey there,” his accent was all round vowels and curls of letters that screamed “education! I had it!” but if Remus might be honest he appreciated the steadiness of it even if it sounded too posh for his ear. “Can we have three pints and… do you have something to eat?”

“Sure. What do you want?” asked Marlene, obvious dalliance in her voice and Remus smiled to himself, setting the glasses on his right.

“Ummm…” the other man said, looking for the visible menu which The Howling Wolf didn’t have. 

“Remus babe, would you make something for those charming gentlemen?”

Technically, it was supposed to be Marlene’s night in the kitchen; two days ago she was begging him to cover for her as she had some hot, last minute date with this girl that was so pretty you wouldn’t believe… He caved in, of course he did, and spent the whole Friday — from when he got home from his day job at the library — smashing eggs, baking sausages and oiling the pans that were leastways half of his weight. He almost overslept for his Saturdays shift which consisted of at least twelve kids aged from eight to twelve, trying to get his attention and a book recommendation from him. It might have happened once or twice that he, by accident of course, tried to give a child “Salem” by Steven King as a recommendation. Thankfully his coworkers saw in what state he was and quickly distracted the child with another book: no one of them wanted to be on the other end of a parents wrath.

It might or might have not happened before, but neither Remus nor the people that he works with would admit to such a mistake. Either way the child was not traumatized that much. Yet.

He looked up from the pints that were still waiting to be polished and Marlene gave him the smile. The one that could spell “trouble” and “mischief” in one breath and could add a couple of similar words to it. The last time he saw the smile, Marlene ended up in a threesome with two girls from America and Remus had some nice memories with one of the girl’s brother. It was a warm night in the middle of August almost a year ago and it was the first time since then that the smile showed on Marlene’s face.

Remus furrowed his brows and Marlene rolled her eyes. “Come one, Remus, we all know your cooking is the best in here.”

It is? He wanted to ask but the woman’s voice didn’t indicate that she wanted to hear any kind of answer, really, because she squinted her eyes slightly and Remus knew that look. It wasn’t as memorable as the smile, which made Marlene’s round face even cuter than it was. There was a sparkle of “don’t argue” that he saw just then but it was so rare these days he had to almost take a double look. Marlene went steady with Fabian a couple of months ago: they have been good for each other so why the sudden smiles and curious looks?

He sighed softly. There was no point in arguing, especially since the dark haired man was looking from him to Marlene and then back to him as if he wanted to say something, all while leaning in on the mahogany bar top, with confusion written on his face as if he wanted to solve a puzzle of some sorts.

“We don’t really have a menu here,” said Remus while hanging the rag, which he was polishing the mugs with, over his arm. “But I can fix you a hearty supper for three.”

“That would be perfect!” The man smiled and Remus had to swallow nervously because, oh boy, what if the man asked him to make hummus? Or anything else? He would be happy to oblige and then some, even if none of the ingredients were in the fridge or pantry. And the closest shop was closed and the one opened 24/7 was at least an hour walk from The Howling Wolf.

He would still say “yes”, which both scared and, if Remus might have been entirely honest, excited him. He nodded to the man and disappeared behind the “Staff Only” doors with a plan that had to succeed. 

He, Remus Lupin, first of his name, was going to woo the man in the black leather with his cooking, no matter if he even liked men. He was going to make him weep with how utterly perfect the supper was so he would have to come back for more.

The thought struck him as utterly bonkers but he did not care, really. He was a man on a mission, who didn’t get to experiment in the bar’s kitchen a lot so this moment to show how good he was with a hot pan and some vegetables? One in a lifetime. 

Remus rolled up the sleeves of his old and tattered flannel shirt, put on his father’s apron and got to work on a vegan Moroccan feast with so many spices that his mouth watered thinking about it.

Thirty five minutes later, with his hands smelling like lemons and garlic and paprika powder, he pushed the staff door with his back and three plates full of couscous that has soaked the vegetable broth with courgette, red bell pepper and red onion with an aubergine spread with harissa paste, grilled with lemon zest and juice with a handful of pistachio nuts. 

Not really Welsh but on point for Lupin family: Welsh from Remu’s mother side and Moroccan from his father’s. The Welshness was in the hands of the chief and the Moroccan in everything else. 

And if their customers didn’t like it this way? Well, they could choose other bars, no one was going to stop them. Yet, they kept coming back for more; for the local beer, for all the vegan and vegetarian dishes that Remus made, for the meats his father grilled and the cakes his mother baked. A truly twenty—first century establishment they have had there, in the rural part of Wales, where sometimes one or two guests tried to order in Welsh and were pleasantly surprised when both Remus and Marlene answered in the same language but with somewhat slightly chunkier accents. 

Marlene opened a part of the bar for him, holding it up so that he could shimmy his way through and she took a breath, inhaling the smells and letting a quiet “oh god” when he passed by. He did not let a triumphant and smug smile fall through his carefully trained expression of pleasantness that he gave to all the clientele. 

Three beers were moved out of the way as three plates were placed before the men. “Welcome to The Howling Wolf,” said Remus, letting some of the smugness into his voice as he looked at the men who were currently staring at their plates: all except one dark haired man in a leather jacket. “Enjoy your evening,” he added, turned and walked back to the counter where Marlene was still holding the bar for him. When he passed her by she said, “Damn, the one in the leather is eyeing your ass. I think I deserve a raise or something.”

“Not the manager,” he answered.

“I know, I know,” said Marlene as he stopped next to her with the intent of not looking at the men. Marlene, never really bothered with any sort of secrecy, looked at the table shamelessly with a smile that did not said “trouble” but “mission accomplished”.

“If the leather jacket won’t hit on you in the next hour, I owe you ten quids.”

“How do you know he even likes men?”

Marlene rolled her eyes as if this was a child's game. 

“They’re staying at McGonagall’s B&B and Fabian heard a thing or two. You know, about how very into guys the black leather is and how high his food standards are.” Remus wrinkled his nose at the last one and Marlene laughed, her brown curls bobbing up and down with her shoulders. “God, I love when you make that face. So pinchable. Anyway, you seem like his type.”

“How do you know?” Remus was tired of the omniscient Marlene that suddenly showed up in The Howling Wolf.

The brown haired woman touched the side of her nose and winked at Remus. “Because I know this stuff. My gay radar is strong with this one.”

“Your gay radar is shit and you know that.”

“Hey, just because I hit on Molly doesn’t mean my radar is shit!”

“You hit on her for a year and a half until she politely had to turn you down. On Friday. In the pub. Very loudly.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “It was one time. Only one!” she added, seeing Remus’ raised brow. “Besides,” she added off—handed, taking one mug from Remus’ hands along with the discarded cloth. “Fabian heard that the leather guy was already in the library today and that he did, in fact, comment on a babe that was working there. You know, you being the only man under thirty that works there, so I added the two together.” She, again, gave him the smile and Remus felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. It has been a long time since he was called “a babe” or anything of similar fashion and he ate it like a child his first ice cream: with a glee and awe that had to be contained. 

It took the man in the leather jacket thirty four minutes — if he was to count — to come to the bar again. There was a flush on his cheek and his eyes were sparkling like coins dropped into a fountain in the middle of a sunny day, when the light hit just the right angle. He smiled and placed the three, now empty, mugs of ale on the bar.

“Can we get another…?” he asked, waving with his hand around the empty glasses, looking at Marlene who smiled in return, taking the pitchers back for refilling. “The beer was very good but the food,” he turned towards Remus, who would have taken a step back if he could. The leather jacket was gone and the man was in the middle of rolling up the sleeves of his knitted, dark blue cardigan that made him look more than a man in the leather: he was more sophisticated and the bad boy look he had before was only the outer layer. He weaved his fingers through his hair and said, “But the food was even better.”

The blush started to creep in and Remus swallowed nervously. He wasn't used to this sort of attention, certainly not because of his cooking, but… other things that were more visible, things that he wanted not to see himself. 

“Thank you,” he said honestly, placing the clean mugs next to each other in two neat rows. He saw that the dark haired man was about to open his mouth to say something else,, but suddenly a meaty, calloused hand was placed on the bar as Victor and his two friends bypassed the small queue to Marlene and started ordering their beer. By the time they were done, more and more people were filling the empty spaces in front of the bar and Remus could only shoot an apologetic look to the leather — no, now a cardigan — man and take the orders. 

One pitcher turned into another, then a third and by the time Remus realised, he was working alongside Marlene, taking orders, coins and once in a while stepping out of the bar to collect empty ones. 

The Howling Wolf closed well past two o’clock and by the time Remus realised he wanted to talk with the cardigan man, his table was empty. 

***

Almost all mornings after a long shift started like this.

He would wake up to the earliest alarm but would only crawl out of the bed by the fourth, his body — feet and back especially — aching from the whole night of being upright and moving. But the few minutes he could be still in the warm bed, covered with numerous blankets were for him the best part of the morning, even better if his family cat, Harriet, sat on his chest, purring while he mindlessly scratched behind her ears. Discarding the quilts, the cold air was a choice he didn’t want to make but had to, even if it was painful. He would gently start stretching his back while still sitting on his bed and then finish while standing, his feet always cold in the fuzzy slippers. 

Then, after the hot shower, he would look at his reflection and wonder what other people saw in him? Yes, he wondered what the black—leather—cardigan man saw in him that could be described as “ babe” considering that he was, well, far from being one.

Remus Lupin wanted to say that no, he wasn’t vain and that he liked how he looked. That was only partially a lie. His skin was darker than your ‘usual’ Welsh, his eyes had a honey tint to their brownness, his hair was more—less a presentable and totally on purpose mess. 

If it wasn’t for the scars he could admit that “babe” was an apt description of him.

The scars didn’t have a long history: he had an accident when he was nine, almost ten. It took him about three years to regain his full movements, countless operations and a few screws that would definitely make the metal detector at the airport blink and shrill.

He was fine, now. Mostly. 

If it wasn’t for the scars.

There were thirty four of them on all of his body, the longest being on his chest, the smallest on the back of his thumb (that one was the only one that didn’t need stitches). He could hide thirty two by wearing long sleeves and trousers. One of the two he couldn’t hide started on the left side of his skull and stopped just below his brow. The second one ran from under his right eye to his ear.

The hospital, and the few years after the accident, was a time he didn’t really want to talk about. Nor think about it. So he did what he could to hide the scars and when he realised that getting tanned only made them more prominent, he avoided sun like a plague for a long time. He was getting better at it, though. 

He wiped his face with a towel and put on the clothes he prepared yesterday: jeans, a shirt and a cardigan. The weather forecast on his battered iPhone might be saying that today was going to be a sunny day but not when you’re in an ancient building with thick, brick walls where standard temperature varies between five and ten, no matter the weather outside. 

The place was quiet when he got there, already open by the senior librarians. Although his job consisted of mostly helping people around and putting the books back where they belonged — and paperwork, so much paperwork — he liked to get lost between the bookshelves. Here he could be anybody: a king, a knight, a woman in her fifties having an existential crisis, you name it and there surely was a book written about that. 

The first floor of the library was where the books could be rented and the second was a one giant reading room with rows of mahogany desks and little lamps. It looked really instagrammable, thought Remus, when his eye caught his coworker Alice, being all smug behind their desk.

What was with people close to him knowing things that he didn’t? thought Remus, as he turned towards the petite, short haired woman whose belly was subtly showing the first signs of her pregnancy. 

He went behind the desk and put his bag on the old, ratty chair and turned toward Alice and said, “What?”

Alice cocked her head to the left, her big brown eyes shining with glee. 

“You,” she said, pointing a finger at Remus’ chest. “Have a guest.”

“A what?” He furrowed his brows and started looking around the library when his eyes caught a familiar tangle of dark hair and he stopped in his tracks along with his breath.

The man was sitting in the last row in the far, far left corner, with his back to the shelves upon shelves and books that were behind him. His head was slightly bowed above a book that he was reading, his Mac open on his left. Was he wearing glasses?, thought Remus as Alice scooped closer to him. “He asked about everything we have on werewolves, you know?” 

It took awhile for him to register that she was speaking and he blinked rapidly, turning his face to her. “What?” he asked eloquently, still dazed by the glasses and the motherfucking top bun the leather—cardigan man was wearing.

A bun! A real one! In his library! With thick, black framed glasses! 

Somebody should pinch him because otherwise he could take this scenery as a fake Pinterest photo op. 

“He asked about everything we have on werewolves. Said he is writing a PhD on them. That’s like, your thing, right?”

“No, it’s not my thing,” said Remus, only half truthfully, as werewolves were ‘his thing’ just as horses were a girls thing, which meant: yes, he was obsessed with them, thank you for asking. At least he was when he was younger, about twelve or thirteen; when the girls from his neighbourhood had vampires, he had wolves. Every shifter book his gnarly fingers could clutch on was his. 

It was much more difficult then but with the rise of Twilight the shifter books flourished and he was set for weeks if not months of steady trickle of new titles. He loved it. 

“And,” said Alice, pulling something from under the desk. “He too has a funny name!”

Remus only rolled his eyes slightly, but took the piece of paper from his coworker’s hands with a smile. Alice was very nice, very good with kids which he really appreciated, but she had a thing for names. When he introduced himself her eyes went very round and big and what escaped her mouth was: “That is such a funny name! I love it!” She liked to express that thought very often, like over her coffee, muttering under her breath, “Gosh, Remus is such a funny name!” as if he was not standing next to her.

The paper in his hand was an index of one of the books on Welsh myths and at the bottom, with today’s date, was a neat signature that read: Sirius Black.

The surname sounded somewhat familiar to him, but the name was what made him smile. Whose parents give their child the same name as a dog star? They probably got notes from parents who named their son after one of the founders of Rome, not even the one that lived. 

“His books are going to arrive in a few minutes. Do you want to or should I…?” Alice looked at the man sitting in the far corner and then at Remus with a raised eyebrow. 

“You talked to Marelen, didn’t you,” said Remu, fishing out his phone from the bag and putting it next to his monitor. Alice shrugged helplessly. 

“She might have sent me a text or too after her shift.”

More like a dozen, thought Remus knowing perfectly well of Marlene’s irritating habit of sending each sentence she typed, not really bothering with writing out the whole thing first. Sometimes it took her a mere minute to write what she wanted, but more than once he had to wait up to ten minutes to get all the details in order to read them to write back anything that wasn’t just “and ?'' followed by exclamation as well as question marks. 

“It’s fine I will take them.” He sat down, turned the computer on and waited for the system to boot up. 

Usually it took his computer from five to eight minutes to turn on fully, but today the time seemed to stretch even more. He sat behind his desk, waiting for all the programs to load so that he didn’t have to look at the focused man sitting at the back of the library, totally oblivious that one Remus Lupin could not tear his eyes away from him.

He sighed and moved his mouse a couple of times, displeased that the library program still didn’t open, even though he clicked on the icon a couple of times, when he heard the peculiar sound of the elevator behind him. As he turned in his chair, he could tell that the elevator was slowly rising from the archive and two minutes later the old metal door opened revealing a small stack of books. Remus, still on his chair, moved towards them, his interest peaked. What did the dark haired man — Sirius, he thought to himself, the man in the leather jacket had a name and it was Sirius — order, what did he study so intently? Remus hand hovered over the books, his eyes scanning the spine and his breath caught in his lungs when he realised. 

These books he knew, these books he read himself not so long ago. The spine told stories of Welsh myths and legends, promised a look into the long forgotten past that now only lived on their pages and in some minds of grandmothers and grandfathers, or even great—grandparents.

The stories written down on these pages were one his mother fed him when he was young, in his bed at home, in hospital over many, many nights and finally, he ate them himself, tracing the letters with his eyes. 

He took them all now, five books piled up carefully one on another. He wrote their library numbers down, took a steadying breath and went bravely to the sitting man. But the closer he got the slower he walked and by the time he was standing next to Sirius Black, a whole minute had passed. Remus gently placed the books down, trying not to look at the man’s work and hooverd for a few heartbeats near him, waiting to be acknowledged.

But… Nothing happened.

Was he so engrossed in his books and his notes?, thought Remus, looking at the somewhat scattered pieces of paper, filled with a neat and steady handwriting in black ink — the man wrote with a fountain pen, of course he wrote with a fountain pen — that laid on both sides. He allowed himself to take a peek at the monitor but all there was was a blinking cursor on an empty page.

He shook his head and backed out to his desk, still glancing at the man. The stack of books laid untouched, the man seemingly focused his whole being at the book before him, his lips pursed, eyes cast down. Remus just sighed when he sat at his desk, feeling the curious eyes of Alice on him.

“Well… that was not what I expected,” she said simply, her computer open on her work email box, a few books stacked neatly to her left.

Neither have I, Remus wanted to say, but he shrugged in response knowing that today Marlene will be grilling him about the encounter — or lack thereof.

As he worked through the day, he did glance at the back of the library. Sirius seemed to be a statue, one that didn’t move, didn’t take breaks, just read and read and read, position unchanged. When his lunch break was over and Remus walked back to his desk with an empty plastic container, Sirius still sat there in the same position. Remus narrowed his eyes, but just reminded himself that this was nothing he should be worrying about.

However, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t. 

***

That day, when the pub’s doors opened, it was well past eight. The sky was dark but at least the howling wind decided to take a short break from making people shudder each time they heard it; it wailed, sounding in each and every house like lost souls pleading for help. Not now, though: when the doors opened, Sirius Black walked first and smiled.

“Fuck me,” he could hear Marlene mutter under her breath as she looked up from her phone. The pub was calm: it was the beginning of the week, and the locals were at their usual spots, if they haven’t drink too much on the weekend and could pass the doors of The Howling Wolf without their stomachs rumbling. Remus had a few moments to arrange the bottles behind the counter, fill up the containers with fresh ice, get some lemons and maybe read stealthily the latest book he bought for his Kindle. But when he looked up, he saw Sirius Black going straight towards him.

He panicked because of course he did. Anybody would see a handsome man in a black leather jacket beelining towards them, eyes intent, a sly smile spreading across his mouth. His two friends were behind him, securing a table for the three of them and they were sitting down when Sirius nonchalantly leaned on the bar and said, “Hi.”

Why did his mouth suddenly feel so dry?, thought Remus as he gave a somewhat shaky “Hi” back. His hands were not sweaty, thank god, but he couldn’t get his eyes off of Sirius’, which gleamed like stars mirrored in a lake.

“Sorry I didn’t thank you for the books. Your friend told me you brought them?” he added, seeing Remus confusion. “The pregnant one?”

“Alice,” said Remus and could feel Marlene backing away from him very, very slowly. 

“Yes, that one!” continued Sirius unfazed. “So, sorry I just…” he made a noncommittal wave with his hand. “Forget about things when I’m working.”

“That’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. I hate when people ignore me, so me doing the same thing to you…” he shook his head in disapproval.

“As I said, it’s alright. You were working.”

“Still not a good excuse. How can I return the favour?”

At the last sentence his mind froze. It was like a frozen lake with his thoughts as fish that swam deeper and deeper, slower and slower, until suddenly spring came and melted the whole thing in an instant. The ideas rushed to him: have a coffee with me, or lunch, or just make out with me in the back alley now.

But what he said was:

“You don’t have to, it’s alright. Give the books back before the closing so we don’t have to stay after hours.”

One thing could be said about Sirius Black at that moment: he was a great actor. Remus couldn’t tell if he was happy by his response or disappointed. Which was great because he himself wanted to jump from the nearest cliff.

Sirius nodded, saying, “No worries, would never do that,” and ordered a supper and beers for three people, then thanked Remus again, gave Marlene a fast smile and went to the friend’s table. 

The minute he was out of their earshot, Marlene scooped near him, their arms touching, and hissed dangerously, “What the fuck was that Remus Lupin!?”

“I,” he said, hands in fists lying on the counter, the knuckles white, “have absolutely no idea.”

It was the truth, he did not. Was that a pass? A proposition? Was Sirius testing the waters? 

“Go.” Marlene nudged him with her elbow. “You go cook and do you brooding in the kitchen, I will get them the beer.”

He set the bottle harder than he intended and disappeared behind the kitchen doors, wincing at himself, his life choices and almost everything he did. He wasn’t dense, he knew that Sirius found him attractive (a babe!), he knew that if he said a word tomorrow there would be coffee happening, just the two of them, maybe by the library’s vending machine? They had shit coffee but it was that or nothing. There would be small talk and Remus would ask about Sirius' work and what was with all the folktales and maybe a connection would happen and start flowing like a current between them.

He chopped tofu into small cubes, reconstructing in his head again and again the last thing he told the dark-haired man until he bit the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste the copper. 

What’s done is done, he thought bitterly. And besides, no matter how charming and handsome the other man was, Remus Lupin did not do one night stands. He just didn’t. Each time he woke up in his or somebody else's bed, there was this heavy feeling pressing him that this would be it until the day he died. Sex with people who maybe did know his name but weren’t interested in discovering why and when did he became a vegetarian, what was his favourite author and why he didn’t go to uni. 

Working methodically through the red onions and carrots, he added the cut tofu into the mix, stirred and added vegetable broth, coconut milk and canned tomatoes to the wok and combined everything together along with one teaspoon of red curry paste. By the time he blinked, a warmth encapsulated in a bowl was simmering in front of him and his body was relaxed.

He took off his apron and headband that his mom gifted him a few years before and put the done soup on the tray. Frowning, he was about to add some fresh parsley on top of it but in the end he walked out of the kitchen, tray heavy in his hands, sans the addition.

Placing the bowls on the table in front of the man, he glanced at Black and felt his cheeks redden instantly when their eyes met above steaming vegan soup. Remus excused himself murmuring something under his breath that was supposed to be “enjoy your meal” but he wasn’t sure if the man understood. In fact, he didn’t understand himself, as he walked behind the bar and started to pretend to look for something below it, just so he could hide his face in his hands that smelled like lemon and curry. 

“Oh, Remus,” he could hear his friend’s voice almost above him and a knee gently nudged his hunked shoulder. “You poor, poor thing.”

***

In the morning Remus looked at his lunch as if it was the most peculiar thing in the whole, wide world. Nobody from that table complained about his cooking the day before — the guy in the glasses, with wild hair, even came later by the bar and asked if he could get a receipt which Remus counted as a success — so he was standing in his parent’s kitchen, which he shared with them, and stared and the two boxes he prepared. 

Nothing special, really, if he was being honest. Just some couscous that soaked up the vegetable broth, with some generous amount of lemon, pressed garlic, olive oil and the vegetables he had in the fridge. Nothing special, nothing he had worked on for half an hour, if he added the hummus, a few slices of bread and some big green olives as a snack. Everything was stacked in two bento-like boxes he got at Ikea a few years back.

One for him, one for Sirius.

Because he saw that the other day the man didn’t even go for a lunch break, never mentioning the quick trip to the toilet. Remus suspected that Sirius was the kind of person who forgot about the world while he was working. Which wasn’t healthy for anyone, especially a man that handsome.

He sighed with contempt for the one brain cell that apparently couldn’t shut up about how attractive it — and thus, him — found Sirius, and he looked at the lunches with the eye of a critic. If somebody left a box like that next to him with a water bottle would he eat it?

Who was he kidding, of course he wouldn’t. There had to be a note left that explained that this food wasn’t poisoned and safe to eat, and that Sirius should eat it because if he didn’t, he would lose his energy for work and Remus didn’t know how to make a normal conversation with another human being. 

After closing the boxes and packing them to his bag along with reusable bottles, he looked himself over in the corridor mirror and another sigh escaped from between his chapped lips. He forgot to use the balm he bought, again. He also combed his hair in the morning, which looked too preppy for him so he automatically tousled his wet hair and right now the top of his head screamed ‘I just woke up’.

“God, you’re being such a teen about it,” he said to himself, which was true. He was a teen. Such a fucking teen he couldn’t get over it. 

These were the things he had to live with. Being a total teen — and a moron, judging by what he said yesterday — about a boy.

Fiddling nervously with his bag he entered the library, and lo and behold, Sirius was already sitting in the same place as he did yesterday. The glasses were unchanged, same with his hairdo, but today he looked even more focused as he was writing in his notebook and then checking in the book, fingers pressed to the page. 

Alice said, “Hi, Remus,” but he ignored her, gently placing the bag on his desk, eyes never leaving Sirius. Suddenly, he felt very nervous, the sweaty palms and dry mouth type of nervous, as he placed the lunch boxes next to his monitor along with the two water bottles. He stood for a second, not really knowing what to do. Should he or should he not?

But then he remembered how Sirius looked at him when he placed the bowl before him, how he still could feel the eyes on his neck walking to the bar. 

He took the yellow stick-in post and scrawled on them: “Not poisonous. Would love to get coffee. Remus,” slapped it on the top box and before Alice could say anything he was already walking, trying to breathe through his nose and parted lips to help his galloping heart. 

As he suspected, the dark-haired man didn’t even see him coming or placing the bento box next to him. Well, he could have, but Remus left the desk so quickly he nearly tripped over his own shoes and almost sprinted to where Alice stood, gaping at him in… awe?

“You say anything to Marlene and I will make you desktop wallpaper a creepy clown,” he said sitting at his chair and turning his computer on. Alice hummed under her breath in agreement and sat, still eying the busy man at the back of the library.

Even though his monitor was on, his emails were updated and there were people slowly filling the empty seats, for the first twenty minutes of his day Remus couldn’t take his eyes away from the man. 

For twenty minutes nothing happened. For twenty minutes he was so focused on work that he didn’t see the boxes, the water bottle or the card. Remus was most worried about the card; he hadn’t written anything like that before, not even a letter to his crushes at school. Would it be enough? Will Sirius be able to read his handwriting? He cursed himself silently turning back to his screen, he should have written in block letters, maybe, or written more carefully. 

He furiously clicked on the first email, then silently got all the pieces of paper asking for particular books and in the same silence he placed the books on the elevated desk for those, who asked for them.

Around one o’clock everything changed when with a soft thump somebody placed a lunch box and water on the counter and Remus was opening his mouth to remind about no eating or drinking policy, when his eyes met dark, almond ones and Sirius smiled at him.

“So,” said Sirius, placing carefully two books in a safe distance from his lunch. “Lunch break?”

Remus felt his ears redden and nodded. 

“Do you have a place, where…?” Sirius gestured at the boxes, and Remus nodded, again, but reminded himself that he actually had a voice and wouldn’t it be a great time to use it.

“There is a spot…” he stopped himself and looked at Alice, who was sitting next to him, trying not to look interested in their conversation, but the moment Remus turned to her, she beamed. 

“Don’t worry, won’t tell anybody!”

“Thanks.” he said to the woman and gestured to Sirius to follow him.

“Oooh, a secret spot?” Sirius took the box in one hand and the bottle in the other and followed Remus, who was grabbing his bag and turning towards “Staff only” doors that were right behind the desk. 

They moved through a storage room, another room filled with boxes and papers, another room that could be a storage room but also could be described as a cemetery for old electronic devices, be it monitors, printers or land phones. 

They made a turn right and Remus pushed the heavy metallic doors and they ended up at the back of the library, rolling hills of Wales before them, splashed with colours of roofs in the distance.

“All yours,” said Remus, making a grand gesture with his hand as he took out his lunch and placed it on his knees. Sirius stood there for a moment and when Remus looked up he was smiling slightly as the sun blew breeze straight into his face.

“That’s quite a view. No wonder not any mortal man can see it.”

“Technically these are fire stairs and we would probably get a fine for blocking them, so.” Remus shrugged and opened his lunch. 

The other man sat two steps below him and placed his bento box next to him and gently, as if he was touching a rare species, opened the lid.

“You are a lifesaver, you know that?”

Remus shrugged, but the ends of his lips were curling into a smile as he dug into the couscous with a fork.

“Didn’t want you to stand up and faint or something.”

“Did you know that that has happened once or twice?” Sirius said with a humor in his voice as he thrust his fork into an olive.

“Are you serious?”

“Yep, that’s my name.”

Remus almost choked on his lunch while Sirius tilted his head back and roared with laughter. 

“That line doesn’t work on James or Peter, it’s nice to know that I still can use it. They just groan and throw stuff at me.”

“James and Peter?” Remus wiped couscous from his lips.

Sirius nodded, chewing an olive. “James is the one in glasses and Peter is the second one. They came with me.”

“Oh, so you’re friends?”

“More…” Sirius hesitated a moment, looking at the green ups and downs before them. Remus could almost feel the sun warming his face, the grass moving with every little breeze of the wind. “We’re more like a family. We shared a room through secondary school and high school. Boarding school,” he added. “It was amazing. We had one bed left empty because they didn’t have enough kids to fill all, so we built a fort in it in the beginning. It was amazing,” he said, stuffing his mouth with couscous and olives at the same time. Without putting the fork down, he took the water bottle, unscrewed the cap and took a big drink.

“That sounds cool.”

“Best time of my life, if I’m being honest. I’m trying to continue the streak.”

“By burying yourself in books in a library in Wales?”

“Well, it might look like that, but I’m looking for resources for my PhD about werewolf legends in the area. Do you have any idea how many similar stories are in the whole of the UK? Fascinating stuff, I could talk hours and hours about it, you would have to physically stop my mouth from moving at one point.”

Remus thought for a split of a second how the other man’s lips would feel on his and he tried to cover his awkwardness with a gulp of water.

“In that case, I am not stopping you.”

Sirius furrowed his brows.

“Usually when people ask me to talk about my PhD, they tend to do it out of niceness.”

Remus shrugged. “The topic seems really interesting. And if I know what specifically you’re talking about then I might help more.”

Sirius straightened and beamed.

“You would?” he asked and Remus wanted to say “Yes, it’s in my job description” but seeing the other man’s enthusiasm, he simply shook his head.

Then Sirius Black opened his mouth and words poured out of him. 

Like putting on 3D glasses, suddenly every inch of Sirius started to vibrate with this unspent energy as if his body couldn’t contain it any longer. He started with what probably seemed like simple terms, the main differences between the legends and how he started to hunt them down when he was an undergrad student and saw two very similar folktales from different ends of the United Kingdom, but which could come to life at the same time.

That was the moment he decided to see if there were any more similar stories being told and he wasn’t disappointed. He stumbled into a world of faeries, magical circles and what fascinated him the most: werewolves. He was about to start telling him about one particular tale that was his favourite one when the metal doors behind them opened and Alice’s head peeked out. 

“Sorry to disturb, boys. But it had been almost forty five minutes and I don’t think I can man the desk alone. Sorry,” she winced apologetically and Sirius's eyes grew wide as he looked from Alice to Remus. 

“I am so, so sorry,” he said, quickly packing his almost untouched lunch. “I shouldn’t have kept you for so long, I am so sorry.”

Remus smiled, his food eaten a long time ago, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle and looking at Sirius who was trying to close the bento box without spilling the couscous. He huffed a laugh and took the box from him, shut it in two moves and gave it back. “You warned me and I agreed so I should reap what I sow.” He shrugged. “Anyways, what you said was very interesting: would you mind telling me more about your research? After I finish my shift?”

As if taken aback by his words, Sirius leaned back, blinking rapidly.

“Yes… yes, of course, if you want that, I can tell you more.”

Remus smiled and stood up, looking at the other man from below his lashes.

“I would, very much.”

The three of them, Alice taking the lead, went back to the library, where true to her words there was a line forming before the desk. By the time Remus crossed the threshold of the main reading room, he already had a plan in his head.

“Listen, I don’t have a shift today,” he said, which was half a lie as he did have a shift but it was the middle of the week and what were friends for? “So you could maybe come to the pub near seven, let’s say? We could eat something and you could tell me more about your PhD?”

The other man nodded, clutching his bottle tightly in his hands and said, “Yes” in a raspy voice that made something crawl under Remus’ skin with anticipation.

They waved to each other, very awkwardly as later Alice told him, and before Sirius was at his desk engrossed in his work, Remus was already sending a rapid text to Marlene:

I need your help. Take my shift today, let me flirt with the pretty boy and you will get all the details later. Deal?

All the details? Was the immediate answer and before Remus could type anything he received next messages one by one.

My dude.

My bro.

My friends.

Have you met me yesterday?

SIGN ME THE FUCK UP FOR THE ‘MORE DETAILS’

YOU FUCKING CASANOVA YOU.

He laughed under his breath, sending Marlene a laughing emoji with tears leaking and a clown emoji and turned his screen off.

And he would be lying if he didn’t take a quick look at the back of the room. It might have been just his imagination, but he thought that in that precise moment Sirius Black lifted his head from his books, smiled at him and sent a devilish wink. 

Though it wasn’t his imagination when he felt his cheeks reddening as he turned his eyes away and back to his work. 

***

It wasn’t a peak night at the pub, just a few locals and one or two tourists, so there were plenty of empty tables and chairs, but what Remus eyed nervously since seven pm were the doors. 

At this point Remus didn’t know if they worked properly. What if they were too rusty to be opened? Surely everybody who came before were lucky and they would slam shut with no way of getting in or out. He won’t hear Sirius calling his name and by the time those in the pub realise that the main doors were closed forever, Black would be gone like a falling leaf on a wind.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Marlene, slamming a rag next to him so hard he jumped in his seat on the other side of the ba and was that close to falling over on the clean floor. “If you fidget one more time I swear I will cut your fingers off,” she added with a serious look in her eyes, slicing a lemon and putting its pieces into a glass with coca cola that one of the tourists just ordered. The girl looked at Marlene and then at Remus with furrowed brows, took her drink and left without a word but with a crispy new bill on the bar.

“Sorry,” said Remus, picking at his cuticles, looking at the smooth surface of the bar, which he cleaned just before the opening. Maybe if he took a book he could kill the time somehow and wouldn’t look like a total loser, sitting by the bar alone.

The doors opened and a cold breeze went up Remus’ spine. It was weird how he could feel the steps in his bones, how he knew that Sirius walked in. They reverberated in him like aftershocks making waves upon waves on his body which was suddenly very conscious of everything on him and around him. He didn’t even have time to think if he ought to wear a different sweater when a figure wearing a leather jacket sat next to him.

“A pint for me,” said Sirius and only then turned to Remus with a lazy smile and cheeks flushed. “And one for my friend over here.”

If Marlene didn’t know better, she would have snorted, but she was a professional and a good friend and by no time two mugs were sitting in front of them.

They would see them, of course, if they could tear their eyes from each other.

“Hi,” said Remus, the brain in his head suddenly lost for words even though most of the time it knew so many of them.

“Hi,” said Sirius who seemed to say everything he wanted to earlier today and was content with just looking at Remus. 

A song was playing in his head, one that he couldn’t get rid off. It was all about how close he was to Sirius, just touch away from feeling the heat and softness of his skin on the tip of his fingers, how his lips would part if he touched their corners, the smell that would envelop him if he got a little bit closer.

It was an unfamiliar song, one that he hasn't heard in a long time, or maybe never? He couldn’t say. There were no words, just feelings that hammered in his chest with the beat of his heart, filled the blood running through his veins and filled his lungs. 

Suddenly, he had to look away because the song got too loud in his head, too intense and it was so, so scary like getting lost in a new, unfamiliar city all on your own, without your smartphone because it died on you when you needed it most. As he drank the first gulp of cold beer, he tried to calm himself down but there was still the melody at the back of his head and he wanted, needed, to hear it all over again. 

Sirius cleared his throat and Remus could see that he also went for his beer and at that moment he was so tired of being just awkward as if first dates weren’t his forte (they were not, but he had to at least try.)

“I don’t really know how…” started Remus turning over to Sirius, who at the same time said: “Sorry, this is really…”

They looked at each other with a smile tugging at their lips as if waiting which one of them would laugh first. Sirius barked a laugh and then Remus smiled and laughed and if that wasn’t a magical spell that broke all the barriers that were between them that evening then Remus didn’t know what turned this meeting into a really nice date. 

The awkwardness wasn’t gone, not really. When they moved past the first bumps of their conversation, there were times when both of them started to talk at the same time, or one interrupted the other one, but by the time Remus blinked two thirds of his pint was gone and with another blink half of the second also disappeared. He did not look at Marlene — didn’t have to, he knew that she was keeping an eye on him, bless her — and only said “hello” to the regulars who often slapped his shoulder playfully. Sirius must have met at least three fourth of the people who came here regularly and Remus had an inkling that he tried to remember their names. 

It was well past midnight when Sirius checked his watch and said “Shit” under his breath. “Umm, I have to go, McGonagall is going to kill me.”

Remus laughed, wiping the beer from his upper lip. “Well, if you sneak quietly enough she won’t realise that you’re back. And if she does and you’re charming enough she might even pretend that she didn’t hear you coming so late.”

“You think? That’s like the first B&B I’ve been to that has a curfew and sticks to it.”

“Pros of being the only B&B around here: you can make any rules you want.”

“Yeah, but a curfew?” said Sirius, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s too much. If she worked at my old boarding school we wouldn’t get away with half of the shit we did.”

“Oh, really? I think that’s a story I want to hear,” said Remus, sliding his pint to Marlene who snatched it without a word. She didn’t even ask if they wanted another one, that slimy gossiper, she just went to the other side of the bar and pretended not to latch on every word they said. 

He would have to comment that somehow, but not when Sirius was giving him a shit eating grin and god, the song was back and loud in his head and it was telling him to kiss the grin out of the man’s face. 

“Well, if you are free I could start at lunch and then finish maybe at the pub?” There was a hint of hope in Sirius' voice as if he really, really wanted for Remus to say yes and before he knew it, Lupin was nodding his head saying yes, of course I have a free lunch and an evening and probably the rest of the hours of my life if you only ask me about them. “Great, that’s great then! I did promise James and Peter that I would go on some tour with them in the morning, but see you at the library?” said Sirius, getting up from his stool and before Remus knew it, before he could blink, the other man was leaning in to him and he could smell him, the cologne of a sea breeze on a spring morning with a hint of beer and his heart nearly lept out of his chest when Sirius’ lips touched his cheek. “See you tomorrow, then,” he said, smiling like a cat that got the canary and left without a word. 

Did he just hit a wall?, thought Remus, because he had to make his lungs start working again, he had to remember how to breathe, how to be a functional human being. His cheek burned and he had an inkling that if he touched them with his fingers he wouldn't get a third degree burn. 

“Oh my God,” Marlene was suddenly near him, still behind the bar. “Are you ok, you look shell shocked because damn that was so fucking smooth that even I am impressed,” she said in appreciation, looking at the doors closing behind Sirius Black and fuck, thought Remus, he couldn’t agree more. 

Remus Lupin never knew what it meant “to be on cloud nine” but as he was staring at the ceiling in his room he thought that he never was that close to understanding that fraze.

Because when he closed his eyes he could still see Sirius’ face, smiling at him that shy smile.

Because his cheek still burned even though it has been an hour since it was touched by Sirius’ lips.

Because he wanted to breathe the scent of the sea on a spring day all the time.

Because when he was making lunch for himself he made “by accident” too much pasta with courgettes and just had to bring it in two lunch boxes because it couldn’t go to waste. 

Because when he walked into the library the next morning when he didn’t see Sirius at his usual seat his heart sank and then he remembered that he was going to come later and it was as if he was born again.

And when he finally said hi to everybody he knew, sat by his desk and could’t tear his eyes away from where Sirius was sitting yesterday he thought two things:

Oh.

And

Fuck. 

It wasn’t until Alice nudged him that he shook his head as if he was in a daze and looked at the short haired woman pointing at his screen monitor.

“If you don’t log in it may turn off any minute now,” she said with a pleasant smile on her lips as if she knew what was on his mind and Remus nodded, knowing that if he started something, opened his mouth and didn’t focus on his work for that day, he would be flooded with questions that he didn’t answer Marlene yesterday.

So, going back to work it was. Pretending not to eye every person to come in, not flinching at the mere sound of the door opening, not trying to get the merewif of the perfume. He was at work now which had to be done, there were books to be sorted and catalogued and yet he was glancing every couple of minutes at the back of the library hoping, with the little sparkle of it in his heart, that he somehow missed Sirius and that he was already there buried under his work...

But no. The place was empty and his lunch break will be in the next three hours and who he was kidding maybe Sirius would never come back? Maybe he was a nice dream, maybe he had already forgotten about him, maybe…

“Hi,” said a familiar voice and Remus looked up from his computer. Droplets of rain were stuck to Sirius' forehead and one even dropped from his chin on the desk. Confused Remus watched as Black peeled off his olive hoodie with the precision and delicacy of a surgeon and asked, “Do you have a place where I can hang it? I didn’t have an umbrella and was not expecting to be rained on.”

Remus very gently took the hoodie from Sirius’ hand and hung it behind his desk on an unused chair.

“Thanks,” said Sirius, all smiles and shining eyes and again Remus thought oh fuck. “I’ll get back to work now. Lunch later?” He added taking the small stack of books that was already waiting for him and smiled when Remus nodded. He turned without a word and went to his usual place.

“You know, for a man interested in werewolves so much he never asked about… what was that book that you like so much?” asked Alice, craning her neck to see Sirius better, maneuvering between the occupied seats and tables. 

“The Collected Stories of Morgan Prichard,” said Remus without thinking and blinked, turned to Alice and said, “He never asked about it?”

“No, just you know, university stuff and some old folk tales.” Alice shrugged and went back to her work.

Well, there was a possibility that Sirius did not know about the book. It was, after all, an old and obscure thing and Remus was pretty sure that he was the first and the only person to lend it in the last decade. He found it by accident just before the car crash and he loved when his mother read it to him in the hospital. He even tried to get his own copy but when you have a limited budget and the only way to get a book is on an ebay auction starting at hundred pounds, well… Lending the book over and over from the library it was, then. 

The book had everything young and adult Remus loved: treachery, romance, revenge and most importantly, werewolves! Each story was some kind of retelling or had origins in local legends and they were fascinating, intoxicating and so unknown that Remus couldn’t find anything on the author. 

The Collected Stories of Morgan Prichard was his, he thought with a pang of jealousy, and he wasn’t ready to share it with Sirius. He had not learned more about the other man’s doctorate to know if it would be useful to him, because he did not want to waste his time on something that he loved but wouldn’t even pique Sirius’ interest. 

Remus sighed and returned to work, because nothing took his mind from the important stuff like books.

During the lunch, which they ate in the common area because it was still raining like mad and how could it, if it was such a sunny morning, thought Sirius aloud and Remus laughed and said, “Where did you grew up because it definitely wasn’t England,” to which Sirius murmured something about about various holidays abroad and boarding school and scoffed when Remus called him pretentious, but he did so with an unmistakable fodness in his voice.

They spend a lot of time together as if it was the most natural thing. Remus made lunch which he ate with Sirius and then they would walk home together to take the bus if the weather was awful. Even when Sirius was with James and Peter, he always asked Remus to sit with them and most of the time he said “no” because he was at work and Marlene couldn’t manage the bar all alone.

But, sometimes, on the rare occasions, when there wasn’t much fuss in The Howling Wolf, Remus would sit with them and bask in their friendship. The three of them were so close he felt as if he was given permission to take a peek into something secret, something not meant for him.

The four of them laughed and ate and drank and even though he was a new addition it felt as if he belonged. Not that he didn’t belong here, in this pub or in his village but it was weird and exhilarating to have something that was only his.

The stories they told were hilarious and during the upcoming days he learned about all the pranks they pulled, how most of them were directed towards Sirius’ family and their friends, and how he loathed them. “They are snobs,” he said and drank his beer as Peter and James nodded vigorously.

Some of the stories made him laugh and cry, some made him shake his head in disapproval. 

And at lunch that they started to share, Sirius told him more about his PhD, and what inspired him to pursue his fascination with folklore and folk tales. He would say that his parents disapproved of it, but it wasn’t what made them disown him.

“Well, they say that the last straw for them was when I publicly said that my father’s closes associate was a nazi and that he should be jailed but I think that they made the decision when I publicly came out during my brother’s graduation party for our family. Like, came out by laughing at one of my awful aunts how was making snide comments about my cousin’s fiance, who is a nice man but you know ‘not from the circle’. I said that she should be happy that at least one of the young Blacks was ready for marriage because she wouldn’t see me at an altair with a nice girl because I am deeply and surely gay. I made a bit of a commotion with that statement, apparently.” He shrugged, and put a whole spring roll to his mouth. “God, that’s so good. Well, after that they shunned me, at least the old crones, my family is full of them. My brother wasn’t even bothered that I took all the spotlight from him, at least he could sneak out and make out with his boyfriend. You know, he is bisexual but only introduces the girls to our parents and I think that’s a little bit sad.”

And to his own surprise Remus found himself explaining his scars without Sirius even asking about them. He said about the drunk driver that wasn’t caught for many years and the months he spent in hospitals and in rehab and how he missed school and had to be taught at home. Sirius was silent for a moment and after a minute or two he said, “Well, at least you didn’t have to do cross-country races like I did. It was obligatory and Peter got lost more than once. It was awful.”

Remus loved to talk to Sirius alone because he let the inner nerd out and would not shut up about certain topics if you didn’t interrupt him. And he smiled so brightly when Remus asked questions and the way that Sirius looked at him and held his eyes, that made his heart beat faster than ever before.

Three weeks in from their first meeting, when Sirius was wiping the teriyaki sauce from the corner of his mouth, Remus said, “Hey, have you ever heard about Morgan Prichard?” and when the other man furrowed his brows and shook his head, Remus felt himself swallowing nervously. 

“Remember the books I told you about that I loved to read when I was in the hospital? When, one of them was a collection of stories that were inspired by local legends and they might interest you, I think. You know, the book is old and there are only a few copies of it but they have werewolves in there so if you want I can show it to you. We have a copy here,” he said, words falling from his mouth quicker than he anticipated and he wiped sweaty hands in his jeans. 

“I would love to. Lead the way,” said Sirius, finishing the last of his morning takeaway coffee and unwrapping the small chocolate mint he had.

With some reluctance he nodded to Sirius to follow him and ducked between the shelves. The library wasn’t the biggest one but it had its charm that Remus couldn’t resist, no matter how much he tried; it pulled him like a bee to a sugar. Only the soft footsteps behind him indicated that Sirius listened to him, but by the time Remus registered them he was already turning left, toward the end of the room and it’s farthest section.

And hidden between new volumes, that smelled still of the printing press and didn’t have cracked spines, was the book. It was alway the book, no matter how much or how little Remus thought about her (and yes, it was a she, he couldn’t think of her in any other way). With a brown spine and faded letters that once were golden, between colorful volumes that beckoned the readers to just open them, she stood: little, obscure but loved so much. He reached for her, thumb for a moment stroking the tattered cover before pulling her out into the sunlight.

Each time he had her in his hands she seemed to be heavier, as if the stories weighted more each time he reached for them. “The Collected Stories of Morgan Prichard” read the title and… that was it.

“Told you she was unassuming,” said Remus, turning towards the other man and he stopped in his track, hand in mid stretch, book still in it, when he saw Sirius’ slightly parted lips and the look on his face that was utter softness. Before he knew, his other hand grabbed Sirius by his arm and in a blink of an eye he was so close, a breath smelling of coffee and mints on his cheek, the book pressed between them still in his hand…

It could have been a dream, yet it was not. He didn’t even close his eyes when Sirius lips touched his, so soft and warm, and when he finally did close them he pulled the other man even closer, more desperate for this contact than he ever was for anything else. Heat started to spread from the bottom of his belly when a hand cupped his back and he parted his lips wanting more, so much more. They kissed, mouths open and eager and one of them moaned in the back of his throat and it was the best thing that has ever happened to Remus Lupin.

The softness and heat were gone as they stopped kissing and Remus tried to catch them, moving his head even closer until his forehead found Sirius’ who chuckled deep and low making Remus’ blood go iron hot. 

“Damn,” said Sirius and when Remus licked his lower lip he could still taste the mints.

Damn indeed.

They stood in the library, Remus still clutching the book as if it was the only thing real in this place. His heart was beating so fast it could run a marathon all on it’s own without anybody’s help, win and take another shot at it. He nervously swallowed and with a slightly shaking hand he laid the book on top of the other behind him. 

A point of no return, as some would say, and it just has happened. There was no turning back and Remus in the stretching seconds of silence wanted desperately to go back to what they were before because this was too dangerous and vulnerable and what if this wasn’t what he wanted at all? 

Sirius stepped closer and Remus instinctively made a step back but his back collided with a rack full of books that didn’t even budge. The dark-haired man chuckled softly, so softly and his left hand gently touched Remus cheek and there it was, that look in his eyes, that sparkle that Remus sometimes could see when they looked at each other, and the smile that seemed to be just for him. 

“You are,” started Sirius, his breath enveloping Remus in a cocoon of warmth and sudden need mixing with the sea breeze of his perfume. “You are a revelation, do you know?”

His cheeks flushed and Sirius chuckled again and kissed him, barely touching Remus lips, his left hand slowly dragging down until there was nothing between his hand and the other man’s hip bone, pulse racing with the sounds of thousand drums. 

He wanted to look down or up, left or right, but there was nothing apart from Sirius’ dark eyes and how they closed when he got even closer and he was kissing him again and again until he was breathless and clutching the man’s shirt like a lifeboat. 

“Making out like a fucking teenagers, look what has become of us.” Remus laughed when they finally broke free but still didn’t exit each other’s personal spaces, their fingers clutching hoodies and the back of shirts in a death grip. 

“At least I can tick it off of the bucket list.”

“You had ‘making out in a library’ on your bucket list? Oh,” Remus added after a second, when Sirius gave him a sly smile and a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I mean this is my workplace and I can’t…”

Sirius shook his head, utterly bemused. “I was just joking,” he said as he kissed Remus’ forehead. “But please, don’t give me ideas, I still have some work to do.”

“Yes, work, work!” Remus blindly grabbed the book and placed it on Sirius' chest. “Yes, work here is the book, I hope it will help you.”

“It kinda already did…”

“Oh god,” Remus hid his face in his hands. “Could you not.”

“Sorry, just this color of red really suits you. Right, sorry.” Sirius put his hands up with palms toward Remus while still holding Morgan Prichard’s book. “So, I will go to my desk and try to focus on the reading I planned to do today while you will get back to your work and try to actually do it. And we will meet afterwards at the pub?” he added hopefully, seeing Remus’ nod. 

“Be there at eight o’clock?”

Sirius saluted with the book and started to back out when he stopped and furrowed his brow. “Oh, yeah, forgot about one thing,” he said and when Remus was opening his mouth to say “what?” he wasn’t alone as a hand grabbed him by the back of his neck, eager lips meeting his and he was being kissed off by Sirius Black. 

“Now I have everything I need until that eight o’clock,” said Sirius, stepping back again, nodded once and disappeared between the labyrinth of bookshelf leaving Remus shocked, slightly aroused and more importantly: utterly his. 

The minutes flew by unexpectedly and before Remus knew it, he was grabbing his pack and jacket to walk out into the bitter cold of Welsh Thursday. Sirius was still hunched over his work — even if he tried there wasn’t and hour where he wouldn’t just peak from his seat at the other man thinking, wondering, still tasting the mix of mints and coffee on his lips which was slowly driving him mad — and didn’t lift his head even when Remus lingered in the doorway a second too long. It was alright, he told himself, zipping his jacket up his chin and bowing his head to the oncoming slaughter of the cold wind. It was fine, he would see him today and maybe he could have him just for himself.

A mind struck him faster and brighter than a lightning on a dark stormy sky and his lips curled and he hid them behind the zipper, hand twitching in the pockets with sudden enthusiasm. He was on a path that would either break his heart or make it fly away; personally he preferred the second one, but one could never be too careful about those little, fragile things, hearts. They were too easy to break and had to be taken care of even if sometimes the measures were extreme. 

He fished out his telephone and wrote to Sirius to wait for him outside the bar and the second one to Marlene, asking her for help once again.

The text came in that evening when Remus was nervously pacing the kitchen, hoping that his plan would work. There wasn’t desperation in it, just a need for something more than normally, and when his telephone chimed and he saw it was Sirius’ name on the screen, he nearly jumped out of his shirt and went out through the backdoor. 

Cold, evening air hit him in the face like sharp razors and he sucked in a breath. Too late to back down, he went through the back alley and stopped next to the wall of the pub; if he leaned he would walk out of the shadows and into the light near the front door. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and shivered, from anticipation or cold he did not know, and walked out, hand on the cold and wet side wall.

Sirius was leaning next to the front door, hair pulled in a ponytail, collar of his leather jacket up, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone. Saying that he looked dashing was like pointing out that the sky was blue — currently dark thanks to the heavy clouds — but Remus thought how Sirius called him ‘a babe’, and called his name. The other man immediately turned towards him, eyes furrowed and followed Remus' hand wave as he himself disappeared into the back alley.

He heard footsteps and here Sirius was, tight jeans, leather jacket and hair in a ponytail, a faint smile on his lips.

“That’s… unusual. What’s in that head of yours?” he asked, leaning on the wall next to him.

“Only stupid things,” said Remus as he grabbed Sirius by the jacket, pulled him into the alleway, away from the prying eyes of, well, everybody, and kissed Sirius with everything he had.

When they broke apart, both of them were panting, and not from the cold wind, and just as Sirius was opening his mouth Remus just burst out:

“Would you like to come up to my place?”

The alleway was so silent Remus could swear the other man could hear his heart beating in his chest louder than any war drums, which thumped through his whole body, from head to toe. They were so loud he barely heard the “yes” Sirius breathed into his mouth before kissing him.

*** 

No one night stands, that was Remus Lupin’s rule, which he was very, very happy to break, he thought as he looked at the barefoot Sirius Black who was looking through his books the next day. 

“Your eggs are getting cold,” said Remus, nudging Black with his foot as he was kneeling in front of his ancient bookshelf, head tilted right to read the spines. The other man slapped him playfully on his knee and Remus just shook his head, tea in his hand, wondering how the hell he was going to survive all of this, how the hell will he keep himself whole, when Sirius stood up, turned to him and said:

“I am leaving in two weeks. So, if you ummm, wanted to soften the blow or anything...”

“Sirius, I broke my ‘no one night stands’ rule for you, for Christ sake,” he said, the tea suddenly too hot in his stomach, his brain shutting down. “There’s the internet, and emails and messages and telephone. We can make it work.”

“Oh,” said Sirius with such a soft expression Remus wanted to take his face in his hands and kiss every inch of it. “I thought you wanted to break up or something.” He scratched the back of his neck and put his hair behind his ear, smiling softly. 

“Sirius, you called me a babe even before we knew each other, and not even to me, I am not losing you unless you don’t want me.”

“Why would you say that I don’t want you, I kissed you in a bloody library and thank God you have more brain cells than me, because if you asked me for a blowjob there and there? One hundred percent would do it.”

Thank God Remus just holding his tea right now because if he was drinking it it would be coming out through his nose.

“You can’t say things like that!”

“Why not, it’s true!” Sirius shrugged.

“Because I have to go there to work and you too, might I remind you, and you’re giving me ideas.”

Sirius flashed him a wide smile. “That’s what I call a well-thought plan.”

“Remind me who gave you a MA in anything and allowed you to do a PhD?”

“Babe, just shut up and kiss me, will you?”

Remus did. And just this once was late for work. 

The song that was filling every inch of Remus’ body during their first date was back, every day and every minute he spent with Sirius. It would be irritating but this time there was something he could do about it. He could, in fact, listen to it and go along with what it was saying; he could touch and smile, kiss and listen and talk and just be, which was wonderful and amazing and absolutely terrifying at the same time.

A week and a half before Sirius’ departure, both James and Peter returned to London as the first one had a lovely and very nice — Remus face timed with her and utterly was charmed — wife and Peter got the job he applied for the few weeks before. As Remus hugged them both and received invitations to their homes he could feel Sirius presence next to him and didn’t, couldn’t think that in a few days they would be doing the same. 

The lunches they ate together became their mini dates, and every evening Sirius would be at the pub, sitting by the bar making Remus and Marlene laugh with his school stories about him and his friends, his stuck up brother and family. He even met Remus’ stoic father and it went better than he expected, taking into consideration that he was the first man he ever introduced as a ‘boyfriend’. 

By the time they had only one week together left one thing became clear to Remus: if Sirius asked him to come with him, Remus suspected that he would simply ask when they were leaving. But he didn’t. On one hand, Lupin was thankful, because Black respected that this was his home and his life that he interrupted with his presence, but on the other hand Sirius didn’t even ask, which was another can of worm Remus didn’t have the mental strength to upack. 

Four days before a train would take Sirius far, far away, he leaned on the back stair of the library and said “Why do you never ask about my family?” while sipping his coke zero.

Remus considered it for a moment, eating his groats with some leftover kale salad. “I know that family is a… tricky stuff. And I’m not one to pry, if you want to talk about them, be my guest.”

Sirius hummed in answer. “So, do you know anything about the Blacks?”

“...No?”

“Really? You didn’t Google me?”

“Why,” Remus opened his mouth, shut it and opened again. “Why would I do that?”

“To see if I’m not a serial killer or something? I googled you after I knew your name.”

“And am I a serial killer?”

“Your Facebook says that you really like cute animal videos.”

“Who doesn’t?” said Remus. 

“Point taken. So, you really don’t know anything about my family? The Blacks,” he continued, seeing Remus shaking his head. “As in the most notorious lawyers, one Education Minister a few generations ago and a bunch of socialites whose greatest success was the front page of the Daily Mail with one of the princes during a party?”

“Oh, which one? Please tell me it’s Harry, I really like Meghan,” said Remus, finishing his cold tea. 

Sirius just laughed and apparently that was that. By the time Remus fell face down in his bed after a long shift at the bar, the idea of even googling Sirius Black was long forgotten. 

There was a tension in both of them as their time together was slowly running out; they could both feel it in the touch, the skin on skin contact that got longer the less time they had left, in whispers they said to each other's ears, in how they kissed hungrily and wistfully at the same time. They didn’t want this to end, and Sirius said so on their last day, both of them under Remus’ covers, foreheads touching.

He could ask Sirius to stay, he could propose a plan in which one of them moved to the other place. He even did some calculations: added all of his savings and looked through rent propositions in London, but then he had to take an hour to ponder on his existence, because fucking damnit, he thought that financially he was alright, slightly below respectable manner, but according to London standards? Remus Lupin was poor as fuck and that did not sit well with him. 

Last day, last hours, last minutes were promises. Of how they would both call and text and Facetime, how they would not forget. Even if he tried Remus knew that he couldn’t, wouldn’t and when Sirius told him the same on the train station it took everything he got not to cry. 

The first text was from Sirius, five minutes after the train disappeared on the horizon, taking Remus’ heart with it. The message read: I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. Also, somebody is eating a sandwich with probably a rotten egg in it and I want to kill everybody on this train.

Remus couldn’t not laugh.

And so it began, the constant checking of his phone because maybe, maybe he missed something, maybe there was a text that has come during the last five minutes that he didn’t hear, maybe there was a missed call. 

When he wasn’t at the library or serving pints, he was constantly on Whatsapp, so much that even his clueless father commented on it. He nodded when Remus explained the best he could that, in fact, he did not break up with Sirius, but they were in a long distance relationship. His father hummed to his tea in response and went back to reading the morning newspaper. 

Days, weeks and months came by and each time he heard Sirius’ voice, each time he saw his face on his computer screen it was easier and harder at the same time, his heart leaping into unnerving rhythms that probably spelled Sirius’ name in morse code. 

Sirius shared his days; how tedious the whole PhD thing was, how unglamorous. How he had to actually give lectures and check his students work and how utterly dumb some of them were and how brilliant a handful of them was. Research was boring, it was mostly reading and notting things down and just staring at the computer screen hours at a time, the cursor blinking mockingly on a blank page that should have at least a paragraph if not an opening sentence, but words are hard and sometimes they just don’t want to come out.

Remus told about his days; reading to children on Saturdays, new faces at the pub (“I hope that everybody is ugly as hell,” said Sirius once when Remus described a group of fresh faced American students that went to the UK on holidays to which Remus just laughed and said, “You know they are, get over yourself, I’m not telling you how handsome you are,” which made Sirius laugh, but Lupin thought that for a split of a second he saw relief wash the other man’s face.)

Autumn came and went, and so did winter, which this particular year was bitterly cold and more than a few times made Remus go to the library on foot, because the busses weren’t able to drive through so much snow. 

Then summer came under a cloak of spring, making people dig up their tank tops and shorts; it was the first time in Remus’ life that he would celebrate Easter with a sunscreen on his face. 

And not with his parents: he bought a ticket to London and he would finally, after months, see Sirius in person, which was great, so fucking great and not nervous at all. 

***

There were three groups in which he divided the rich; the first one one he called Generation Rich, meaning those people who inherited their wealth and didn’t have to worry about anything, ever. The people in the second category — Newly Rich — could work hard, but didn’t have to, and yet somehow they stumbled upon their wealth. The third and the last one were the Unknown Rich; those who you wouldn’t believe had such an enormous amount accustomed over the years of the constant money counting, getting the best bargain and scolding others for wasting even a quid.

Sirius Black somehow, in a very weird but specific way, belonged to each and every group at the same time. He was the Generation Rich due to his name, the Newly Rich thanks in part to his inheritance but also thanks to his work — who knew that folklorists could get grants as big as he got — and the Unknown Rich fitted just perfectly when Remus opened Sirius’ cupboards in his London flat. They were filled to the brim with pastas that were bought in bulks, with canned goods, which expiration date was in the next century, probably, and the most common word between them were “sale” or “off price” printed on the bright stickers that just screamed “I count every pound”.

Remus just sighed; he could hear Sirius humming in his small living room just behind him, the rustle of pages as soothing as Nat King Cole’s ‘This is My Night to Dream’ that played in the background. What Remus expected from Sirius’ flat was definitely not what he saw when he arrived after his bus ride, joints still sore from the little space they had. His expectations were grand; he imagined marble, heated floors, kitchen counter that would make him whistle; unused stove and an oven because men like Sirius Black didn’t cook, they ordered. He expected a doorman and an elevator, a big balcony or — if God was gracious enough — a greenhouse in the center of the city. In his mind this is what people like Sirius had.

Because, in the end, he googled Sirius Black, and then the Black family and was flooded with information about money and privilege and he nearly threw up on his computer. 

The dark-haired man laughed when he saw his face when they entered the crammy corridor, Remus’ cheeks growing hot in an instant.

“Sorry,” said Sirius, when he put Remus’ travel backpack on an old rug that looked as if it was used by quite a few people, with tattered edges and what looked to be a cigarette hole. “So sorry, it’s alright,” he added, reassuringly, pulling Remus gently by the end of his jacket. “Almost everybody does this face. Did you expect heated floors?”

“And a doorman,” added Remus quietly, feeling his ears getting redder by the second. Sirius turned and gave Remus a shit eating grin, all white teeth and sparkling eyes. “You’re not the first person to mention that, you know. But, I think this is better,” with the other hand he waved around a small living room. “Welcome to House Black, the one and only!”

When Sirius told Remus that he liked books and reading, he thought that the other man meant it in a ‘I have a Kindle and I’m not afraid to use it’ sort of way. Maybe a small library, obviously curated so that it felt as if Sirius read all the books that would be colour coordinated on his hand made shelves. 

Well, he didn’t expect this.

Because the books weren’t even under the table — they were the table, as somebody put a glass rectangle over them with a seemingly ‘good enough’ vibe. The books were holding the tv; they were by the slim, green sofa, next to the antique burgundy armchair that seemed out of place but somehow fit to the overall arrangement. Books and papers were spilling out of the Ikea shelves (double Kallax, Remus knew because he helped Ms McGonagall install a few of those in her B&B once over a weekend. He still had a small barely visible scar on his thumb from when he accidentally glued it to his index finger. It was an honest mistake made while being hungover and could have happened to anybody) and then there were stacks on the floor. In neat piles, but still: stacks. 

The room looked very much like a researcher's paradise and not Sirius’ Black bachelor pad.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” said Sirius next to him, so close to him he could feel the heat slowly spinning him in a cocoon of closeness and security. Sirius looked so proud that Remus felt a smile tugging at his lips. 

When the other man stopped, proudly looking at his flat his eyes fell on Remus and oh, how he missed that face. Now, in a place that belonged to him, was him, Black’s face was more open than in the bar or the library. There was a softness in how his smile curled up, the squint of his eyes. 

A hand that tugged on his sleeve and let go, which made Remus almost moan with displeasure; instead it curled around his waist and by the time he blinked they were almost face to face, Sirius’ breath on his cheek. 

“Hi,” said Sirius tugging him closer by the waist, his long fingers making circles on his spine through his clothes. “I missed you so, so much.”

How, wanted to ask Remus, and why? We only exchanged a few words and some kisses in the shadows of a library older than both of us, and yet, he hadn’t voiced them, lost in the smell and the smile, made them remain silent at the back of his head.

“I missed you too,” he said, the words soft on the edge of his tongue, his mouth even softer when he let it connect with Sirius' lips. 

There were no room tours, but he saw the whole flat in the morning; the small kitchen with a well used stove and a kettle that made a familiar whistle when it decided that the water is hot enough to leave scars; the modest bathroom with a shower, a toilet and nothing else except hangers on the door. He found more books under the bed when he was fishing for his t—shirt, which Sirius commented with a shrug over a sizzling pan with eggs and bacon.

“What can I say, I love reading.”

“Have you read them all?” asked Remus, looking around from the couch. Most of the spines told him stories full of history; wars, uprisings, military strategies. Memoirs were piled on top fantasy — he counted at least three editions of Lord of the Rings — and nonfiction books laid on top of thrillers and criminals.

“Most of them, yes. Those by the couch are for my PhD and the books under the bed were from my uncle. Skoot,” he added, placing the breakfast on mismatched plates on the coffee table. “Not as good as yours, but I tried.”

They ate, they talked: it all seemed like a dream. After so many text messages, Remus could finally hear Sirius call him “Moony” in person, with a dangerous twinkle in his dark eyes and truly nothing mattered. 

While Remus would love — love — to stay in this small, but cozy flat with book spines digging in his spine, he had a list of things he wanted to see in London, a silly thing he wrote a few years prior. Sirius regarded it with a straight face and when he was done from his jeans pocket he took out his own list. Remus discovered with a shock that most things written down were on both lists and he would have lied if he didn’t think it was cute as hell. It meant that Sirius really read his messages and thought about him and the places he would like to see. It was touching, bordelined cheesy, but he loved it nevertheless. 

They even started on the list, walking around London, watching the streets and parks, when near two o’clock Sirius got a text; he squinted at the message, absentmindedly stirring his Starbucks coffee when he suddenly lifted his head and said “Hey, would you like to meet my friends tonight? I just got a text from a cousin that they’re meeting at this club tonight, would you like to go?”

And of course Remus said yes, how could he say anything else if it meant spending more time with Sirius? 

***

Like stepping through the looking glass, Remus knew that he wasn’t in a real word the moment he walked through the door of the club, bypassing the long line and walking by a security guy who opened the door for them. The music hit him like first hail; it was sudden, first hitting his face, then the muscles and finally sitting in his bones and made him blink rapidly, while Sirius just grabbed his hand and walked further in. They turned right to what Remus thought was a VIP section because there were other burly men who could, by the look of it, easily snap him in two with his bare hands letting them through and up the stairs.

Sirius said to wear a t-shirt and jeans, which now seemed extremely funny to Remus as he eyed the people sitting in their boxes; short dresses and prestene shirts with the top button open. The moment they stepped up, their eyes landed on them and Remus wanted to run. So this is how dying animals feel when they see the vouchers overhead?, he thought as Sirius waved to the judging group enthusiastically. The ‘hello’ and ‘hi’ all blended with the thudding music of the dance floor as both of them went through the whole floor to the last box, where a young woman was sitting alone, absently sipping on her cocktail while scrolling Twitter. She looked up for a moment, eyeing Sirius and narrowed her eyes.

“I told you you didn’t have to come,” were her first words as Sirius sat next to her, pulling Remus right behind him.

“And leave you alone, Andy? What kind of a disgraced cousin I would be.”

“You must be Remus. I heard about you,” she said in response, holding out her hand, which was cold from the drink she was just holding in it.

“Ummm…”

“Don’t fret, they were mostly good things,” she said.

“Only good things!” said Sirius, eyeing the woman with a pointed look. She smiled at that and only then Remus could see the family resemblance; they had similar, if not the same, dimples whenever they smiled, even slightly. 

“And this is my favourite cousin, Andy. If you call her Andromeda, she will probably push you through the railings.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes but just smiled, turning off the screen of her phone and was about to say something, when a gorgeous blond woman with a face sculpted from stone walked up to them with a man matching her beauty under her arm. He was blond with sleek hair combed back, with pointed chin and piercing, blue eyes.

“Andromeda,” he said, smiling coldly towards the brunette who didn’t even move or say anything back. “And Sirius! So good to see you both here. You both look… well,” he added, with a bit of a smirk to the last word.

Remus hated him on sight. As apparently did Sirius, who laid back nonchalantly, his arms on the back of the couch and said, “Oh, Lucius. Didn’t see you there. What’s up, mate?”

The blond man gave one of the smiles that’s sole purpose wasn’t even to be sincere. “Wonderful, as always. Have you heard the news? Narcissa ” he pulled the other woman closer, her cheeks flushing slightly as if from embarrassment, “is going to be my wife.”

There was a bit of silence when neither Andromeda nor Sirius said anything and it felt like a slap to the face. Sirius cleared his throat, his eyes on the blond woman, and gave her a sincere smile. “Congratulations. The most important thing is that Narcissa is happy.” She nodded in response but Remus could see that Lucius’ jaw tightened and he was about to say something, when Narcissa squeezed his hand tighter, her knuckles white as if saying ‘not here and not now, darling, we already got the upper hand.’

“Thank you, Sirius,” her voice was all sexy husk and politeness. “I can see that you’re too fairing well,” she added, her cold eyes that were dusted with glitter and a touch of eyeliner fell on Remus.

Oh, how he wanted to disappear when those eyes concentrated on him, how he wanted to become one with the couch when the eyes of those two seemed to pick him apart, appraising as if he was a thing on an auction floor. 

It was Sirius who helped him, draped a hand around his arms nonchalantly, the most natural thing to do, and said, “Yes, this is Remus. I should have started with introductions first, how rude of me. Remus, this is my smart and lovely cousin Narcissa Black.” He put an emphasis on the last name, the damn bastard, and Remus imagined him adding oil to a fire cackling wildly before it consumed him. “And this is her boy… sorry, fiance, Lucius Malfoy.”

Malfoy? God, now Remus knew from where he could recognise the man: not his face in particular but those of his family. The Malfoy’s were an old blood and even older money, their lawyering firm always got the most prolific cases and Remus knew this only because last year one of their clients was a woman who refused to use proper pronouns for one of her transgender colleague. It was all over the media, older Malfoy’s face on his twitter feed arguing for ‘old times’ or some other bullshit. They lost, thankfully, but it seemed like their clientele consisted mostly conservative people with conservative mindset who had to argue about it with someone. 

“Remus…” asked Lucius, extending his hand, which the other man gripped in a firm handshake.

“Lupin. Remus Lupin” he wished he could add something like “my family owns a couple of tea shops all over London and on the mainland Europe, they’re called Lupin’s tea” or some other story about how well known in some circles his family was. 

But there was nothing he could add, nothing that would contribute to his status. He was a boy from a small welsh town, who worked behind the bar and in the kitchen.

“I see. It is nice to meet you, Lupin,” said Lucius and Remus knew that he understood. He knew it by the way his smile curled, how his eyes narrowed for a fracture of a second. He was a nobody in their midsts, an usurper, only a curious looking man with faint scars. 

He didn’t know if Sirius knew this, if he has seen the recognition in Lucius’ face, but the arm didn’t go away and it seemed that he sat even closes, their knees bumping each other, the heat of Sirius’ body enveloping him in a sense of belonging, if not here then at least with him.

Narcissa and Lucius didn’t stay long, they excused themselves from their table seemingly going to greet another acquaintance that just happened to come up. When they walked away, Remus could see how Lucius hugged his soon-to-bewife closer and whispered something to her eyer to which she laughed and pretended not to look back. 

The whole night went like this. People would come, start some conversation, asking Sirius about how his studies are going (“Great, I’m doing the PhD right now, yeah? On folklore. No, not the bed time stories, the stuff of legend you know?” “Yeah, I’m kinda working — doing my PhD right now on Welsh folklore. You know, the stuff that legends are told about? No, not the ones about King Arthur, more… um, different legends.”) and he would ask how their work was going and listening, really listening, making the conversation last longer than five minutes by saying: “What happened to that case you were working on, the Abbot case? Did they sentence the guy?” or “Yes, I remember your last project! The houses outside London, how did that go?”

Of course they would pause whenever Sirius would introduce him, waiting for more than just his name and surname. When asked how they met, Sirius would tell them that it was while he was doing research on this one obscure local welsh legend about werewolves and did you know that the welsh really believed in them? There was no future explanation, most of their listeners cut Sirius short at this moment, inventing an excuse to run as fast as they could from crazy Sirius Black talking nonsense about werewolves. 

At the beginning Andromeda sat in silence, sipping her drink, with a hand hovering in front of her phone, its screen illuminating the glitter on her cheekbones and her dark curls. With time — and more drinks, which were placed before the three of them without question — she started chatting with Sirius and Remus, more interested with each minute and... It was surprisingly nice. If it wasn’t for the people who insisted on saying hello to their table, Remus would catalogue this experience as a quite pleasant one, despite the numbing music, the few times Sirius tried — without success — to get him on the dance floor.

They got into uber well past two in the morning, Sirius barely standing, swiping furiously at his screen.

“What are you doing? I can order a damn uber,” grumbled Remus, taking his own telephone out, one of the old iPhone models that still worked, thankfully, with a screen that was a total opposite of Sirius’ spider web of cracks.

“Going closer. To uncle’s”, said the other man, showing his phone almost into Remus's face, his face all smiley and drunk. He had one hand on Remus’ shoulder, trying to stand straight, which was an accomplishment. Remus squinted his eyes but the screen, which was too bright and cracked for him to see anything, and before he knew a car was stopping next to them. 

They sat in, Sirius mostly on Remus’ lap, his head on the other man’s shoulder, hot breath on his neck that made him shiver. The lights behind the doors were bright; he was not in Wales anymore, Remus reminded himself, as Sirius placed a kiss on the side of his neck mumbling something along the lines of “Glad you’re here”.

The driver didn’t say anything, the music was the only thing that he could hear besides the rise and fall of Sirius' chest were the slow tempo of beats that came out of the radio. 

And their car ride was much shorter. Were they really in the right place? The building where they parked was much, much more grandiose than Sirius’s small flat. There were revolving doors in front and behind them he could see the dark floors and a counter that looked more fitting in a reception than there.

He was about to say something, but Sirius suddenly stirred in his laps, yawned and said “oh great, we’re here, come one Remus, I want the bed,” as he opened the door nearest them. 

“Umm, thanks for the ride!” was all Remus managed to say as Sirius swiped quickly on his phone, slightly unsteady on his feet. Damn, those jeans really looked good on him, mused Remus, as he caught Sirius by his hips to hold him in place.

“Come, you will meet Pawel!” said Black, wrapping his long fingers in Remus’s with a blinding smile and as they went into the marble floors, revolving doors and a man behind the stone desk who immediately stood up when they walked in.

“Hey Pawel! Long time no see! Sorry, gotta go and pee, but this is Remus by the way, he is super nice, byee.” 

Before he could even comprehend what had happened, he saw the knowing smile on the man’s face, as he sat back in his chain, his white hair combed back and glistening with gel under the light of the hall. Remus then was dragged into the elevator that was all mirrors and metal, sleek and new. The button with the top floor — seventh — was already clicked and it looked jarring, blue and so out of place.

Sirius stood in the corner, black hair falling onto his face, hand still in Remus’s and it was then when Remus finally took a calming breath.

The elevator stopped with a ping, the doors opened silently and they both walked to the closest doors, their footsteps echoing on the empty corridor. Sirius fumbled with the keys for a few seconds, sticking the tip of his tongue out like a child until with a quiet “got you!” he opened the doors to what Remus was expecting the first time.

The heated floors. A big stove, the wine glasses that were hanging just above the centerpiece of the kitchen, the big stone island. He watched — not touching, he was too afraid to do that — when Sirius walked in and once again tugged him towards the open space. Before even seeing the bedroom, he was being kissed, softly and tentatively as if Black was checking if everything was alright.

It was and it wasn’t at the same time. What was wrong with Sirius if he, the man who had everything, wanted him? A man from nowhere, who had no higher education, no connections, no money; who had scars on his body and who preferred books to people, who had a very small group of friends and who definitely did not deserve the passionate, delicate and handsome Sirius Black. 

He was standing with his forehead on Sirius’, slowly breathing in and out, feeling the clever fingers of the other man drawing circles on his spine just above his jeans. 

A delicate kiss on his lips, another on the tip of his nose, and for a moment Remus allowed himself to have everything, this beautiful man in his arms, only to himself.

Sirius sat on the bed and then laid down, his eyes never leaving Remus and he smiled dreamly before he closed his eyes. His chest started to fall and rise in a steady rhythm; Remus wanted to laugh because that was so typical of Sirius — he would get what he wanted, namely him right now, and then he would peace out and fall asleep. 

He sighed, with humour but also with a touch of despair because Sirius was fully clothed, lying across a huge king size bed on sheets that smelled fresh even from where he was standing and truly, what has his life turned into: undressing a gorgeous man while he was asleep without a touch of foreplay.

God riddance, he had it bad, he thought as he started to unfasten Sirius’ belt. He hated those black jeans now, how tight they were, how they cling to Black’s body, how hard work was it to get them off. 

After a good half an hour he was tucking Sirius Black in, who didn’t stirr, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even mutter in his sleep as Remus laid his head on a pillow as if he was a princess, brushed his long hair out of his face and left a water bottle, some pills for a tomorrow’s headache and — just in case — a empty bowl (he couldn’t find a bucket) just by the bed.

It was well into four in the morning when he crashed on the couch, his clothes still on him. Through the windows before him he could see the neverending city of London, its light always and forever on, and he thought as he was falling asleep, that it would be nice to buy a fridge magnet for his mum with Big Ben.

***

What woke him up wasn’t the shuffling of Sirius' feet, nor the humm of a tea kettle. It was, comically, the sound of opening the fridge and an echo of opening a packet of something. Remus cracked open his eyes and winced seeing the rising sun and thought for a moment about turning around and sinking into the couch which, predictably, was comfortable as well as stylish. Didn’t Sirius say that his uncle was a researcher or something? Well, if this was an apartment of a researcher, Remus thought that he really ought to have filled his CV for this job. 

He yawned and stretched, pulling his hands out of the blankets and raising them high behind his head until the sockets of his arms popped with a satisfying sound to which he heard Sirius saying “That was so gross, please stop it.”

Remus sat, gingerly looking at Sirius from behind the couch. He didn’t look overtly hungover; only the shadows under his eyes showed how much sleep he didn’t get. He was in the middle of opening a packet of — oh god was it really Lipton’s? Was he really a barbarian? — tea and he just looked at him, his right eyebrow going slightly up as if in a question.

“Is this… your place?” asked Remus and blinked when Sirius winced. Was it because of the roughness of his voice (alcohol always did that to him) or because it was an unexpected sound?

“It’s my uncle’s, don’t worry.”

“The dead one?”

“Yes, the dead one, Remus, I only had one.”

Taken slightly aback by the defensiveness in Sirius' voice, Remus leaned in, placing his right elbow at the back of the couch and his chin on his hand.

“Well, you told me you weren’t on talking basis with your family but I saw a total opposite of that yesterday.”

“You know how it is, it's fine and then it's not.” Sirius waved a hand, took out a tea bag and placed it in th white cup that was standing on the counter.

“No, I don’t really know, sorry.”

“Sure you don’t,” murmured Sirius seemingly to himself, but Remus narrowed his eyes and the other man.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

Sirius winced, pouring the hot water over the packed, showing his profile to the other man. He slowly put the kettle down, combed his dark hair with his fingers and said, “Never mind, want some tea?”

“You can’t say ‘nevermind’ after you say something like that. And no, I don’t want whatever you’re offering me because that, in fact, is not tea. That,” he pointed towards the lipton box “ is a sin and you know it.”

The other man sighed, still not turning toward Remus and bowed his head a little bit as if he contemplated all the life choices that had left him to this moment.

“Look, all I am saying is that you’re judging my relations with my family and you’re not looking at yours.”

“What do you mean?” Remus straightened his back because well, he was not expecting this. What did Sirius have in mind? His family wasn’t perfect, they were far from it. His father could show his emotions more, his mother could wrap him in blankets a lot less as he was not a child. They had their ups and downs,but they were there for each other in every way they could.

“Well, your dad…”

“My dad is what?” Remus cut Sirius' answer short, way too fast with a voice raised too high, scratchy on the edge but he didn’t care. If the other man was going to say what Remus thought he was going to say he would rip his throat apart with his teeth. “My dad. Is. What?” he repeated through clenched teeth. Sirius turned towards him, mouth open but closed it as soon as he saw Remus' face. “My dad is what, Sirius? Say it.”

The tension in the room smelled like yesterday’s clothes that they both had on; a mixture of sweat, beer and cigarette smoke, which clung to Remus' hair and which he thought that would never be cleaned.

“‘Your dad is brown’, is that what you were going to say?” Adam’s apple in Sirius' throat bobbed and he shook his head. 

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what, huh? That he looks different? That he looks different because he is brown living in a Welsh town?” He didn’t even register when he stood up, the blanket sliding off onto the couch. He would shiver if his body temperature wasn’t rising with his anger that felt like another being wanted to get free from under his skin.

It was an argument, or at least a conversation, that he wished he didn’t have to had: it was the goddamned twenty twenty. But seeing as this was the country he was born and lived in with his parents, especially his dad, prepared him from this kind of conversation. Lay low, they would say, you don’t want any trouble. We love you, and all the people in Neyland know us and know you. It’s gonna be alright, they would say, just don’t speak up.

But the problem was, the older he got, the more he wanted to. To open his mouth and to speak, to show that he and his parents were here; they paid their taxes, they had a business, they helped their neighbour and their community. What was wrong with standing up for himself? 

“That’s not what I was going to say and you know it. I just wanted to say that your dad and your mum seemed like nice people, but not overtly emotional.”

Remus huffed an angry breath through his nose and realized that he, after all, wanted to fight. He craved it, the words out of his mouth before he even fully formulated them in his mind.

“Well, that’s rich coming from you judging by the people you keep in your company.”

Making matters worse might not be the best idea, he thought, but there were things he wanted to say and a heated conversation like that was the best way to do that. They would later apologise and all would be well while they got their feelings and worries out of their chests. It worked before, with his other relationships, so it would be fine now.

“Now,” Sirius turned in one smooth motion, leaning in on the island toward Remus. “What do you mean about that?”

“You said, back home, that you were disinherited, that you hated your family. But yesterday you were positively up their asses trying to, I don’t really know what you were trying to do, impress them? Grase their hands?”

Sirius threw his arms in the air. “I was there because Andromeda asked me to go!”

“We both know that she would be fine, she was hardly there and mostly on her phone, ignoring even you. Sirius, these people didn’t even remember what you were studying or if you finished school and you knew exactly what they were doing!”

“There is a thing called ‘being nice’, maybe you should try it.”

“I know perfectly well what it means to ‘be nice’. My father is an French immigrant originally from Morocco, I had to be nicer to everyone around me so as not to get labeled as the ‘angry brown guy’. If this is what being nice is then I can only imagine what kissing somebody’s arse would look like. Sorry, I forgot,” he added as Sirius was just about to open his mouth. “You don’t do that. Because you’re away from your family and you don’t buy into their values” he finished with a wide wave of his arm aimed at gesturing at the gorgeous, overpriced loft in the center of London that probably added the amazing view of the city to the price making it a six figure number at the least. 

“I don’t!”

“Did you have fun yesterday?” asked Remus and when he didn’t get an answer from Sirius he continued “No, you didn’t, did you? Then what the hell were you there? Because it wasn’t for Andromeda, as I said, she was fine. What was she doing there either way, she looked even more bored than you and she didn’t even talk to anybody. You told me that you don’t support your family values, that you were disowned by your family, a fact that you are rather proud about. But yesterday? It looked like you wanted to be there, wanted to belong there. You want to have the cake and eat the cake Sirius, and we both know that it doesn’t work that way.”

Sirius furrowed his brows as if he was thinking very hard about something. After a moment, his face seemed to relax and he said, “Oh, so you do have a problem with me being a Black and all that?”

“I don’t,” said Remus, too fast even to his ears. “No, I really don’t,” he added, seeing how Sirius took a step back. “I don’t care where you are from, if you have money or not. I’m just saying that this is going to backfire sooner or later, in your face, and it won’t be pretty.”

“Why do you even care?” asked the other man, his voice too high borderlining on a whine and Remus twitched. “You have something against my friends, you have, apparently, something against me having money, then why do you even care Remus?”

These are not your friends, was at the back of his throat, trying to claw their way out of his mouth, bypassing the barrier of his brain. I saw you with your friends, James and Peter, and you told me about Lily, and they were lovely. These people, these friends know that you take two sugars in your black coffee, that you have to have a warm meal at the end of the day, otherwise you will be cranky the next one. They know what you’re writing your PhD on, and they support you, hell, they even pack their backpacks to go with you to a small Welsh town so you can research some obscure legend only a few people know. 

Instead, he blinked and looked at the floor, his shoulder hunched. He was never really good with saying what he was feeling, a trait from his father, but he wanted to say so much but the words didn’t want to go out. 

He stared at the floor, the silence deafening between them. Sirius sighed and Remus heard him cluck with disapproval.

“Just… just forget it.” There was a weariness in Sirius' voice and Remus knew. He knew with that “forget it” that this, them? It did not sound like “forget it” told after an argument, it had a finitness to it that shook his bones. 

It was as if Sirius was cutting something loose and not looking back, finishing that chapter of his life and ending the book. This was a car crash that happened in an instant and they both took part in it but it seemed to Remus as if he was hurt the most.

They were done faster than they started and Remus' heart shrunk in his chest, withered like a plant that hasn’t seen water in weeks, months, and died. 

Before the door clicked behind them and the elevator pinged for them, Sirius didn’t even glance his way and in the ride he furiously — but still silently — was scrolling and refreshing his twitter feed, his thumb gliding past the cute videos with rescue cats and dogs.The uber ride to Sirius’ other flat was eerily silent. 

Remus didn’t say a word, clutching his own phone in his hand with a desperation of a man that knew that the worst was yet to come. 

The charm of the small flat was lost to him this time, as he went in after the black haired man. The books seemed to suffocate him, their sheer amount and the number of papers, words and letters that were printed on them. He would never have the time to read them all and a sudden desperation rose in his throat to grab the nearest one and just dive in, Sirius Black be damned. 

Sirius dropped the keys onto the table, where they jingled and nearly fell down, as he went to his room. Remus stood near the door, his hand still clutching his phone for a minute, then two, feeling the emotions tightening his throat.

Well. There was nothing to do about it now.

Maybe it was a good thing it happened that fast, he thought, as he slowly went to his backpack that was propped on the side of the couch. Maybe it was a good thing that they crashed and burned that fast and quickly because then only some hurt would remain and not for a long time. 

He folded his t-shirt neatly, took his toothbrush and paste from the bathroom, as well as his razor and still slightly damp towels. 

And after a few minutes… after minutes Sirius Black’s flat looked like it was never invaded by one Remus Lupin.

It was sad. But only a little, he thought as he put everything he brought to London on his back and cast a last glance at Sirius’ room, where he could see his outstretched legs on the bed, snickers still on his feet. 

The tense moment in his throat was gone, as well as everything else. Quietly he opened the door and quietly closed it behind him. And was gone. 

The last thing he did before boarding the bus home was buying his mom a fridge magnet with Meghan and Harry because the shop didn’t have ones with Big Ben on it. 

One shaky breath escaped his lips when he sat in his seat, mercifully without any strange odours around him and without a person next to him. The window under his temple was cold and Remus hugged his ratty backpack closer. He thought that maybe at least he would get some more sleep but it turned out that the whole journey was him trying not to weep in the back of a bus. 

To make the matter worse when he tried to check the time, his phone was dead; the screen was dark and gloomy and it didn’t want to turn on even when he held the power button for thirty seconds.

***

Marlene was staring at him the next day when he began his shift and he didn’t know why. Was it because of the redness in his eyes, the weariness in his shoulder or the fact that he didn’t say a word and came back almost a week earlier from his trip to London about which he couldn't shut up before? 

“Remus, Jesus,” she said, pulling him towards the kitchen when he was trying to wipe the same pint for the fourth time. “What happened, you look like a zombie, are you okay?”

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. No, something came out but not from his lips. Before he knew and realized what was going on, his eyes went all misty and tears started spilling, clinging to his eyelashes when he tried to bat them down. 

One moment he was alone, the next he was in a truly bear hug with Marlene's arm holding him together. He cried god knew how long and when he tried to unravel from the woman’s arms, she just squeezed him tightly, once, and let him go.

“Do I need to kill him? No, don’t answer that, you will tell me everything after the shift.”

“But…” he started, wiping the tears with the back of his hand, which only made the matter worse because it was wet and stank of beer. 

“I’m not letting you out, are you crazy, you’re going to scare everybody. No, you’re staying here,” she grabbed him by his shoulders and maneuvered him to the closest stool. “You will wait until I close and then we will get shots and you will tell me everything, alright?”

Marlene hugged him again as Remus once again tried to wipe his tears, this time with his sleeve. 

And he waited. Tried not to think about the sound of Sirius’ voice, tried not to think of the taste of his lips — mints mixed with coffee, which was his favourite taste ever — and how he smelled, such a specific smell of the sea during a spring’s day, who the hell came up with perfume like that.

He sat and tried not to think, not to feel but it was hard when your heart was in pieces.

When Marlene came back, his eyes had dried and his whole face stung and was probably bolted but when his friend came near he lifted one of his hands, which was holding his phone and said, “It died, I can’t even call him and curse him.”

Marlene tsked, took the phone and put it down on the kitchen island. “It will be alright. Remember when Dan broke up with me? How broken I was? What did you say to me then?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” he muttered looking at her face. 

“You said that I need to survive to spite him, to show him that I deserve better,” she gently pet his hair. “And that if I need, you can give me all the chocolate in the world because chocolate solves everything.”

Remus chuckled, unamused. “That's horrible advice, please tell me you didn’t follow it.”

“Ha, if I did I would be at least a few pounds heavier! No, I almost torched his car, but you know, he would know it was me so I just cried my eyes out, thinking that I would never survive it.” She shrugged. “What I needed was a friend, and that was you, so,” she took his face in his hands and squeezed his cheeks. “I am going to help you survive, alright? Good boy.” She kissed him on the forehead and he let a long and painful sigh.

“But what if…” He started, but his vision blurred once again. “What if I won’t find better, what if he was the one?”

Marlene smiled, sadly. “I don’t know, darling. We will figure it out as we go, okay?”

Remus nodded, his throat sore and raw, but he nodded again and let Marlene guide him to his room upstairs. 

The moment his head touched the pillow, he was fast asleep.

The next day wasn’t better. Hell, he wanted to stay all day in bed. He could, he took a couple of days off from the library for his trip to London but now it seemed like a distant thing, something that happened to another him. 

A knock at his door made him wince — his head was killing him and the sunlight that got to his room made it even worse — but he muttered something under his breath and got out to open the door.

Marlene was on the other side, a hot cup in her hand and a plate with sandwiches and an aspirin. “Take these first,” she said, pointing with her chin to the tablets. “Then eat that,” she bypassed him in the doorway and let herself in, placed the plate with his food on his desk and handed him the mug. “And drink that. When you’re done, take a shower, dress, we are going for a long walk and you’re going to tell me everything,” she finished, plopping on Remus’ bed. “What are you staring at?” she asked Remus who was still standing in the doorway. “Pills, breakfast, tea, shower. Chop, chop, chop!”

He sighed, swallowed the pills dry, which made Marelen wince and shudder, and did everything else. As he stepped from the bathroom his wavy hair in a ponytail because Sirius said once that he would look gorgeous with his hair tied…His eyes stung suddenly, and he started to wipe them furiously, trying not to think about Sirius and how they, in this bed…

“Hey,” Marlene was before him, arms wrapped around him tightly. “It’s fine, you can cry.”

“But I don’t want to, it's tiring,” he said, feeling Marlene’s laugh as a vibration that started in his chest and moved through his body.

“I know, but you're going to cry harder while telling me everything.”

“Do I have to?”

“Then how can I understand how you are here and he is there?”

Remus hummed in agreement, stepped back, took a calming breath and said “Alright, let’s go.”

The weather was merciful, at least this once, as the air wasn’t scorching dry and some clouds covered the blazing sun. The hills of Wales rolled before them; they could see sheeps hiding in any corner of a shadow they could find, but Remus’ heart didn’t swell with joy when he saw this picturesque scenery. It didn’t matter, really, as words were leaving his mouth with some reluctance, his lips felt more chapped and dry than usual, but he did tell the whole story. 

He was an utter mess by the time the story was done, out in the world; in Marlene’s ears, in the grass, the soil around them. The broken pieces of his heart fell from his hands to the ground and he looked at them, trying to come up with a plan of what to do with them. And Marlene, sweet and bubbly Marlene, who had a mouth and an attitude of a somewhat sober sailor, was silent for more than a few minutes.

She gave no advice, there were no words that could fill this void. And there, in the openness of his country, where he belonged and did not at the same time, it struck him that he was utterly in love with Sirius Black, which he realised after he had lost him.

There were no more tears to cling to his lashes, so he just sagged with Marlene’s arm over him, tugging Remus closed, as both of them sat on the grass in silence.

The bar was busy that night, thank god, so he didn’t have to think in the evening. He could go back to the library in a week so he could lounge — or, hide under covers and pretend to be alive — in his bed well past noon and only get ready for his evening shift. And he did everything: he poured beer, cleaned the tables, made dinners and late lunches and snacks. He was never this busy and it let shut off his mind which was, after hours of dwelling and thinking and mourning, a nice experience.

Next day was Friday: both of them were busy bees and falling face down on his bed was the only thing he dreamed about by the time they closed the bar. Saturday was even worse as temperature was climbing up and up, hitting well past double digits and it seemed like everybody in town wanted to have a cold pint and something to eat.

Remus was in the kitchen drinking his third glass of iced tea when Marlene came in and said “Remus, I need you to walk away from the pans.”

Confused and tired, Remus took a step back and then Marlene followed with, “And I need you not to freak out, okay?” she said, disappeared for a moment and then pushed Sirius Black inside the kitchen.

Rems froze and if he was holding his ice tea it would shatter on the kitchen floor in thousands of pieces but it was safe on the counter which he was gripping tightly, knuckles white.

Sirius looked good, although there were bags under his eyes and hair clang to his sweaty forehead. He was in a burgundy t-shirt and shorts and was staring, unblinkingly, at Remus.

The silence between them stretched and if it wasn’t for Marlene, who opened the doors, peaked in, rolled her eyes and said, “Sirius, if you don’t tell him what you told me I am going to butcher you here and we both know I can do that, easily...”

Sirius blinked, the spell cast on them was broken, and he licked his lower lip nervously.

“I am sorry,” he started, looking at Remus with guilt in his eyes and something in the other man’s guts twisted unpleasantly. “I am an arse. I… I know that, but usually people forgive me because I am me and… Well.” He shrugged. “I don’t have many friends and they give me shit for everything I say… And you just left,” he added, softly, looking at the floor. “And I didn’t know what to do, you didn’t answer my calls, or my text, you ignored me on Messenger and Whatsapp. I had to call Marlene to be sure you arrived in one piece. I’m just…” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran his fingers through his dark hair and he was crying, tears in his eyes started to swell as soon as he opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, you were right. I tried to have the cake and still eat it. But you were gone, you left,” the tears started streaming down his cheeks, and his voice had gone so rough that Remus could feel his own throat starting to tighten. “You left and I didn’t know what to do, I thought you went out to clear your head but your toothpaste was gone, you made the fucking bed Remus!” 

“You said to forget it,” was what he said, hands still clutching the counter.

“Yes, but not like forever!” Said Sirius, raising his hands up.

“You said ‘forget it’ and were silent all the way to your flat, you didn’t say a word!”

“I was hungover and tried not to cry in the fucking uber!” said Sirius, stepping closer.

“How was I supposed to know that?!”

“You could have asked!” Sirius threw his arms again. “God, it feels like we’re having the same argument over again, what is the point if we don’t talk!” His breath was ragged and coming in bursts, tears gone but his cheeks were flushed. “For example, why didn't you tell me you feel uncomfortable with my family's money?”

“I’m not… it’s…” Remus sighed, closed his eyes and tried again. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with your family’s money, I don’t care, it's that I think too much and compare myself to your friends. I’m,” he started, seeing furrowed brows on Sirius's face. “Am a man from a small Welsh town, with nothing to his name, who works in a bloody library and is of mixed race, how the hell can I even think about making somebody like you happy when you have so many better options! With their money and influence and their fucking whiteness!”

“But,” said Sirius, weakly, after a minute of silence that followed Remus’ outburst. “But I love you, doesn’t that count?”

“I am sorry,” Remus’ throat was dry, he was hot and cold at the same time. It didn’t matter that he was in his ratty old t-shirt and shorts that seemed better days, that there were probably people in the bar complaining about lack of food on their tables, that Marlene was working for the two of them just so he could dumbly ask: “Say that again?”

“I love you. I fell in love with you when you put that plate with such a cocky grin, when you tried to impress me with your cooking but then in person you were shy and so sweet.” Sirius made a step forward and when he saw that Remus wasn’t backing out, he made another. “I fell in love with you when you gave me lunch the first time and listened to my nerdy rambling.” He was close enough that Remus could see small freckles on Sirius’ nose and cheeks which he counted in London while the other man was asleep next to him. “I loved you when you told me about your scars and laughed at my jokes.” He put a hand to Remus cheeks and he whimpered, let himself just feel the fingers slowly stroking his face. “And I love you now and I’m sorry I fucked up.”

“I’m sorry, too. I assumed things when I should have known better because I assumed many things about the relations you have with your family and because of them I assumed things about you.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “I assumed that I was your ‘next thirst’ because I was afraid that if I wanted more you would toss me away and move one.”

“And do you want more?” Sirius' voice was soft, the question barely a whisper.

Remus bit his lower lip and nodded, opened his mouth and said “Yes, because I love you…” but everything else he said was swallowed by Sirius lips on his, a desperate kiss that made his blood boil and his head spin.

“Fuck,” said Sirius, backing up, still holding Remus’ face in his face. “Sorry, I told you a long speech about talking and communication and did this, fuck, so sorry, I…” Remus laughed and leaned in kissing Sirius gently. 

“It’s fine, you’re lucky that I love you,” he said and smiled.

They were going to be alright and it will take some work, so very much time, but they are going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> For Natalia and Ania who are amazing, wonderful and just the best.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my little rambling!
> 
> If you want you can find me on Twitter @patrochilles7


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